2017 - 12 - ??

It begins with a leap. Hours spread out over months of fermenting thoughts, a stew of left-overs and recycled bits from a life-time and longer; cut off by an orthogonal leap, random perhaps, or inspired. A renunciation of what came before, a dip into the void, a spastic grapple and a desperate delusion of faith. Frantic carving, pouring the ferment into this what-ever form at hand. And then a miracle: it works, in ways that the prolonged pondering couldn't ever have conceived of - the thinking struggles to catch up and reaches beyond it's horizon; the idea that was dead rises again, transmuted. Struggling faith is made firm, and re-emergence out of the darkness, as black silver granular fluid flows out all crevices, reveals a more transparent, more complete being than that which descended. What follows is calm reassured work in peaceful knowing, with occasional ruptures of both darkness and Light. Darkness is transfigured with relative ease, the leap was successful and now the residual can be treated in accordance with an increasingly coagulated form. A rupture of Light on the other hand is the fruit and the fuel: a touch of Eternity, awakening the self to it's own already undead quality, an elusive ecstasy, a tingling sense of being about to faint. As the work proceeds the weak spots become ever fewer. Eventually one has to move on: to repeat the process, but in a totally different way, because it can't be repeated. Complex repetition, without redundancy, is a difficult thing indeed. To do nothing is not a way out, for the gaping nothingness is infinite, and whatever vitalizing light brought into the world is finite and fading, requiring repeated replenishment.